


Lygerastia

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Fluff & Angst [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7672828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The condition of one who is only amorous when the lights are out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lygerastia

It’s getting a little weird, if he’s honest. To begin with, Hux thought maybe Kylo kept turning the lights off because it added some mystery to the proceedings, or because he was self-conscious about his body, but they’ve been having regular (and, if he’s honest, incredibly satisfying) sexual relations for some months, now.

Hux has seen Kylo naked plenty. Admittedly it’s normally in the morning, when he jumps out of bed and into the ‘fresher with his eyes gummed mostly shut. Kylo never struck him as a morning person, and from the way he radiates a cloud of _leave me the fuck alone_ until he’s had his caf, Hux thinks the assessment still holds water. But the Knight _always_ insists on showering first, then dressing while Hux is getting his own ablutions out of the way.

And really, once you’ve had one another’s sexual organs, fingers and tongue in almost every orifice - what’s left for decency or dignity? The first time someone’s ass squeaks like it’s breaking wind when you glide against the lube just _wrong_ , or when you actually **do** break wind in the middle of heavy petting… the time for squeamishness has long since flown over in a TIE-Interceptor, bound for the Outer Rim, trailing fart jokes and toenail clippings and the knowledge that the other _does, in fact, use the toilet_ in its wake. 

Maybe Kylo thinks it’s necessary for his hooky religious practices? The man _does_ worship the Dark, after all, it’s just… Hux thought it was more of a metaphor than an actual darkened room. Or it could be that he’s trying to recreate the stifling atmosphere on the inside of that mask, or…?

And _also_ , whilst Kylo might have preternatural abilities to judge things in the gloaming, normal (hah, ‘normal’) people like Hux _can’t_ , and he **knows** Kylo is handsome, toned and towering… so why can’t he appreciate the whole package? Not just with his hands and mouth? Why does the light get flicked off with the Force the minute he goes beyond the pre-flight checks, let alone the ignition switch?

He decides enough is enough. 

When Kylo gets to their (now nominally shared) room, he launches himself at his back. Okay, so his arms barely go around his torso, and Kylo could just breathe heavily and shatter his radius and ulna, but that’s not the point. He squeezes tightly, and nuzzles where the mask ends, at the little bit of black-clad neck there.

“Did you miss me?” Kylo asks, amused.   


“You weren’t gone long enough to miss you.”  


“And I thought you cared…”  


Hux slides one hand up, freeing the Knight’s arm, moving to push against the familiar clasps that keep the segments of Kylo’s mask kissing shut. Of course, Kylo’s hand goes up to gesture _fiat nox_ , and he slaps at the wrist.

“No. Bad.”  


“…what?”  


“The light is staying on, Kylo.”  


“I’d prefer it off.”  


“I’d prefer it _on_. And you’ve had your way every time. I’m not backing down this time.” Maybe he should have stood his ground sooner? Rather than let him get away with it in the hopes that he’d mellow with time? Still, if he never challenges this behaviour, he’ll never get what he wants.  


And Hux has been _more_ than patient. 

Kylo stiffens in his arms, his hand still slightly lifted, the fingers curling around unseen tendrils of influence that are obviously nigh-on _irresistible_ to him. 

“Just once. Try just once, and if you don’t like it, we stop.”

It’s a fair compromise, he thinks. He waits for Kylo’s answer, not pushing him any further until he consents. The hand in the air drops - flapping uselessly by his side - and the smallest of nods indicates _okay_. Hux does not need the Force to read these signs, and he clips the helmet open and gently eases it off.

Underneath, Kylo’s hair has tangled a little in the day. It still looks far too kempt to be natural, and Hux hates him for it, even as he tosses the mask to one side so he can tangle his fingers in it. He curls his hand into the silken mane, pulling Kylo’s head to one side to give him more access to his neck. There’s only a few inches between them, and he licks the edge of Kylo’s jaw, right where it meets the black choke of fabric about his throat. 

Kylo’s right arm is still trapped below his, and Hux uses his own hand to trail patterns over the heavy fabric of the Knight’s robes, drawing idle sigils and mapping out a path for later, writing a battle-plan on his clothes. It feels oddly more intimate, now, than even their first time: the man in his arms is trembling just slightly, and Hux wants to know and doesn’t, both at once.

He’s never been good at comforting people. 

“It’s alright, you know. I’m not going to hurt you.”  


Kylo laughs, and he tries to move his head but the hand in his hair prevents much. “That isn’t… what I’m worried about.”

“Then what?”  


He clams up tighter than a squadron of troopers around a priority asset, then, and Hux lets go of the half-crushing hug to slip a hand over his torso, down to that heavy belt of his. He traces the rectangle with one perfectly trimmed nail, pressed up bodily against his back.

“Just… stop talking about it, okay? I agreed, didn’t I?”  


“Under duress,” Hux replies, and arches onto his toes to press his cheek to Kylo’s own. The man’s a wreck in his arms, and he’s starting to wonder if he’ll even be interested enough for it to be pleasant for either of them.  


“If we’re doing it, we should do it. But I don’t… want to talk about it. Okay?”  


“Alright,” Hux concedes, and gently unwinds from his hair. 

Kylo doesn’t turn to face him, only curls fingers around the wrist near his waist, the other hand moving to reach behind his hip and hold lightly onto Hux’s own waist. He can feel the raggedness of the Knight’s breathing, breaking like a ship cutting through atmo, and he keeps up the kissing as he works on unclipping the belt.  


With his free hand, Hux slides a tablet-worn thumb across the indentation marring the Knight’s beautiful face… although it’s not really a spoiling, it’s more beautiful than that. A battle-scar, one that shows how far he’s come. It’s red like his saber, a gash that’s healed imperfectly (much like them), but Kylo doesn’t seem to like it this time. 

In the dark, he powers up when Hux touches him there. It’s like putting extra juice into an engine, and it normally leads to whoever’s on the receiving end getting fucked _extra_ hard, but now… now Kylo chokes on a sob, and–

“I know I said we wouldn’t talk about this, but Kylo… you’re… you’re acting… what’s so bad about the light being on?”  


“Don’t.” His voice - it’s alien and small - even factoring out the mask, it’s tremulous and uncertain. “Hux, just–”  


“You’re beautiful, you know? You’re the most beautiful person on this whole damn ship. Except, of course, for me.” He doesn’t mean that, he’s just trying for - ah - yes. The laugh. It comes, if quietly.  


“ _You_ are,” Kylo whispers back.   


Hux is in two minds about that. He knows he has a striking face, and he knows he’s in good shape, if the shape is ‘thin’ and ‘not very muscular’. He takes care of his body, but he’ll never have the torso, the biceps, the neck, the thighs that Kylo does. Kylo’s a walking, wound-tight punch to the gut, and he’s a back-handed slap to the cheek. 

“How about we agree that I like looking at you, and you like looking at me?” he suggests, tracing down the jagged, healed line that means he has to pluck the shirt away from Kylo’s throat. “You, with your ridiculously muscular body, beautiful face, gorgeous hair…”  


Kylo squirms, and Hux smirks. He flicks the belt to open, and lets it fall on either side to Kylo’s hips. He’s still pressed bodily against him, and that keeps the cinch from tumbling to the floor. 

“Hux…”  


Arm up from his waist, over his shoulder, reaching for Hux. He’s arching, feline and hungry, and Hux uses the heel of his palm to grind into his crotch. 

“Don’t try to deny it. I could lick every inch of you, you know. Kiss you all over, claim you as mine, tell you how very beautiful you are…”  


Kylo responds more to this, trying to push Hux’s hand lower, towards his groin. Hux resists, tugging buttons and zips open, instead. He knows Kylo’s getting hard by the sound of his breathing, and if he plays this right, he won’t get the same resistance to the light situation next time.

Also, Hux has a perfectionist’s soul. He _needs_ to know he’s doing the best job he can, and that’s why he slips his fingers lower when he can reach bare skin. Under the cloth, and Kylo’s a whimpering mess already. He strokes him: root to tip, root to tip. Over and over, and maybe he doesn’t need to see everything, this time. Maybe he can work up to it, because Kylo’s acting skittish and as ready to fire as the first time they did this (which Hux now thinks might have been the first time Kylo did this _ever_ ), and if he can get him off with the lights on… maybe they can shower together, and then curl up before bed? 

He has to remember at times that the Knight… well. Hux has had different life experiences to Kylo, and he should be considerate of those. Even though Hux wears his uniform all day, every day… he’s never been so stripped of everyone’s gaze like Kylo, or his troopers. Gently, gently, and he’ll break him in properly.

Like now, when Kylo is making wrecked sounds as he ruts into Hux’s fist. He kisses to the back of his neck, then finds an earlobe and tugs between his teeth. “Would you like me to fuck you?” he asks.

A nod. Wordless. Voiceless.

“Right here? Up against the wall? Or bent over the bed with your ass in the air?”  


He _feels_ the ripple of it, like a stone hitting a lake, and Kylo’s legs slide further apart, lowering himself, turning them by degrees towards said wall. A tiny bend at the waist, and both hands go out to hold him up, offering.

Delighted, he reaches into Kylo’s robes for the small bottle of lube he carries. Flicks the Knight’s tails up and out of the way, and shoves his pants down and towards his ankles. He doesn’t undress himself, just pulling out his cock and making sure he’s ready.

He should, perhaps, prep more than just a few heavily lubricated strokes to his dick, but he also knows Kylo can take this, and can will himself to take it, too. He doesn’t sink in to the root straight off, just teasing against his entrance and gently jabbing in… until Kylo’s body _surrenders_ to his head, letting it slide in. He’s fucking tight as all hell, and the man bends his waist further to help, but _damn_ is that not going to last too long. Damn.

Kylo seems to agree, because he’s sweating visibly at the brow and temples, hands clawing into the walls as he starts to subtly fuck himself wider open on Hux’s cock. So, so fucking tight, a glove of heat around him, and Hux starts to push in and out. His own hand works over the familiar length of Kylo’s fat dick, and even though he can’t see it properly, he _could_ , if he leaned. He can see what he’s doing, and he can feel Kylo slipping his feet further apart, bracing hard against the wall as he rides him.

Fuck, fuck yes. Fuck yes. He holds Kylo by the waist, rocking knees straight and bent with each thrust. It feels so much more intimate like this - for all the darkness has a romance of its own - and he whispers he won’t last long. Not this round, anyway. 

(Which is by no means to say it’s the last. When they get off so hard and quickly, it pretty much guarantees there’ll be a second course later. Maybe the shower, maybe the bed…)

He wants to bring Kylo over first, wants to make sure he leaves only good memories, and he bites down on the curve of his neck, tasting fabric.

That - apparently - does it. Kylo tenses around him, his body riding out the high for all he’s worth. Hux keeps his fist working, making sure he wrings every last drop from him as he fights his own climax for as long as possible. Kylo’s spurts hit the wall, and Hux… Hux follows him with a soft noise of victory. He pushes in one last time and stays there, shuddering in delight. 

They stay for a moment, like a picture captured in a static image, then Hux kneads at Kylo’s waist with his thumb. 

“Shower,” he says. “Both of us.”  


Kylo, sated and dazed, nods. 

Hux beams. With the fuzzy blanket of sexual satisfaction, Kylo will most assuredly relax more, now. He can already feel it as he rubs his cheek to the Knight’s. 

“Damn, but you’re beautiful,” he mumbles, feeling Kylo rock forwards so their bodies slide apart. He’s surprised when the man turns to face him, hope writ large on his face.  


“If you say so,” Kylo answers, voice gentle.   


“I say so,” Hux confirms. “Now: strip. I’m going to worship every part of you until you know I’m not lying to you.”  


A flush across his cheeks, the scar tissue a static, fixed point below. “Okay.”

Kylo Ren. Bashful. No wonder he’s kept the lights out so long, no wonder at all. It just makes Hux love him all the more.


End file.
